The Sister Solution by Trudi Trueit Read Free Book Online

crunch. Wouldn’t you know it? Crepes Jorgianna was pure perfection. Dang.
    We arrive at our destination. I tip my head sideways to read titles like Destiny’s Hope and The Lonely Heart written in 3-D Victorian script. Ew. I hate romance books. Banana loves them. I don’t get these kinds of novels. For one thing, what’s up with the weird cover art? Most have heroes with bulging biceps and heroines with smooth shoulders, but hardly anyone ever has a head. A lucky few get a chin or, if they are really fortunate, a nose, but that’s it. Romance books aren’t my thing. I am into fantasy and apocalyptic thrillers with an occasional mystery thrown in. I have nothing against love, but I would rather have it happen in real life at least once before I have to compare myself to the decapitated women on the romance covers. Banana picks up a book with a sparkly sapphire-blue cover by someone namedStormy St. Cloud. Yeah, like that’s her real name. I will give her some credit, though. This novel, at least, has two complete people, heads and all. Banana puts the book into her straw book bag, then leans over to me to whisper, “I think we are under surveillance.”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œTo your left and slightly behind you. In the sports section. A boy is pretending to read a book, but he hasn’t taken his eyes off you since we walked over here.”
    â€œOh, Banana.” She always thinks boys are looking at me when they aren’t. Still, I slowly swivel my neck, because there’s always the hope that one day, one glorious day, she might be right. My breath catches in my throat.
    It’s him! SGB is standing less than twenty feet away. He’s wearing jeans and a long-sleeved burgundy waffle tee with the sleeves pushed up. He’s slowly flipping the glossy pages of a big book on baseball. Banana is right. His dark brown head is bent, but his green eyes are tracking this direction. I swing back around, and she is quick to read the truth on my face.
    â€œYou know him.” It’s not a question.
    â€œHisname is Noah Whitehall. He’s in my grade at school.”
    â€œYou like him.” Another statement.
    â€œShhhh. Not so loud.”
    â€œBy the way he is staring, I’d say he likes you.”
    I desperately want her to be right, but if she is, what do I do? The possibilities pile up in my head like a chain-reaction car accident. Is it okay for me to like Noah, even when I know he likes someone else? Especially when that someone else happens to be the most popular girl in school? I need to go outside and get some fresh air. Oh, right, I am outside. I force myself to take a deep breath. There’s only one way I can think to handle this. “Let’s go, Banana. I’m getting hungry. Are you hungry? I think we should go.”
    â€œOf course. Lead on, my girl.”
    I take off, blazing a path through the crowd.
    Thud.
    Spinning, I see my grandmother on one knee. She is picking up the books she has deliberately dropped in front of the cutest boy in the eighth grade. Noah isbending to help her. I should have known. Banana gave in far too easily. I have no choice but to backtrack.
    Blood rushing to my face, I bend down beside her. “You okay?” I ask, though we both know the answer.
    â€œYes, dear, I’m all right. Lost my grip, is all. Wasn’t it nice of this young man to stop and lend a hand? Thank you so much.”
    â€œYou’re welcome,” Noah says to her, though he is looking at me. “Hi, Sammi.”
    My heart flutters faster than a hummingbird’s wings. “Hi . . . Na . . . Noah.”
    Did I just call him Na-Noah?
    Banana sits back proudly on her heels and says sweetly, “You know each other?”
    â€œWe go to school together,” I say, turning my head so she is the only one who can see my I-know-what-you’re-up-to smirk. I turn back. “Noah, this is my grandmother,